Catastrophes Are Better With Icing
by I Spaz With Pizzazz
Summary: When chocolate doughnuts melt on your shirt, it, like, seriously sucks. Poland/Lithuania and Russia/Lithuania. Crack oneshot.


**A/N: **So, this is actually loosely based on a true story. X3 (I'm so sorry Nikki, if I'm bringing back painful memories for you. XD) It happened a while ago, but it took until a late night writing marathon yesterday at midnight for me to convert it.

…That was such an amusing day though. XD I'm sorry, Nikki-sama! Possibly.

Please enjoy the story~.

I don't own APH, thank you.

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Catastrophes Are Better With Icing

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"I thought you said you were going on another diet…?" Toris mentioned skeptically, glancing down at the box of chocolate frosted doughnuts tucked under Feliks' arm. "Aren't things like that generally considered junk food?"

"Hm? Oh," the Polish man giggled, waving a correcting finger. "No, like, of course not! This like this that are so _yummy _don't _have _any calories, silly Liet."

"Really…" He pretended to nod in understanding but actually not believing a word of it. Whatever. It was best not to tempt any scenes from happening while they were strolling around in public. Feliks had called him that morning and demanded that they go window shopping together and take advantage of the weather.

It was hard to say no to Feliks on the phone. He would talk so fast that he'd answer _for _you and wouldn't allow for a word in edgewise. Then, before there was a chance to remind him that you actually had a life of your own at times, Poland already would have hung up.

Yeah.

It was _worse _than hard to say no to Feliks.

"But _anyway, _I'm totally thinking about getting a piano or something!" He was chattering now. "Do you think Austria would teach me how to play it? Do you, do you?"

"Um…maybe." The correct answer was that even if Poland didn't prove to be too hyper for Roderich to bear, he probably would get distracted and lose interest before the first lesson was even halfway over. "I suppose you could ask him. Maybe."

"You should come with me though, Liet. 'Cause like, what if Germany is there? He kinda scares me, seriously…Italy says he's not so bad, but still! I think—OH MY GOD."

Hearing the complete horror in Poland's voice all of a sudden, Toris snapped to attention with alarm. "What happened?! What's wrong?"

"OH MY _GOD!" _He moaned, shoving the doughnuts at Toris and examining his shirt in shock and terror. "Oh my god, Liet!"

"What, what!?" Fumbling to get hold of the doughnuts, he peered at his shirt. A huge brown chocolate stain was smeared all across the side, no doubt from a sticky spot on the box they hadn't noticed.

Toris sighed. Poland could be so particular about his clothes.

This probably meant a meltdown was in store.

"Oh my _god, _what am I gonna _do?!_" Poland wailed, poking the stain desperately. "This is a freaking _white _shirt! Like, oh my _god, _Liet! It's gonna _stain, _I _know _it!"

Lithuania cringed, examining the box and finding the incriminating icing spot. Apparently, it had started to melt from the sun and body heat. "It'll be okay, calm down…"

"Calm _down?"_ Feliks whimpered, stamping his foot, distressed. "Do you understand the total _tragedy _of this? No? Ah! Because it's, like, a tragedy…! Oh, damn it, I think I'm making it _worse!_"

He sighed again, and took the other's wrist in his hand to guide him. "Come on, let's go to my house and try to wash it out."

Poland sniffled, but allowed himself to be led away. "I know I should've stayed to the stupid diet…"

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The shirt was off, and being treated with stain remover. "But Liet, what am I supposed to wear now? Give me one of your shirts or something. Like that one, the one you're wearing. It matches my pants best, don't you think?"

The Lithuanian was already frazzled from all of this, but of course someone would choose to ring the doorbell just as Feliks decided this.

"Um, okay, you can have it, but can you wait a minute…?" Toris asked, trying to pry Poland away from the buttons he was beginning to undo. "I need to go get the door—"

"Wait, I almost have it off—"

"…Toris? It was unlocked…not that I don't know where the key is, but…oh. Hello…?"

Oh dear god.

_Please not Russia _now.

"…I didn't realize you were entertaining _other _company." Ivan stared at them from the doorway, annoyance clear in his eyes that Poland was half naked and working on getting Toris the same.

Not to say it _didn't _look like quite the compromising position to someone who didn't know what the hell was going on.

Toris swallowed, shoving Feliks off and redoing his shirt buttons. His face definitely felt like it was blushing bright red. "Russia-san…you're early?"

With a blink and one of his terrifying little smiles, Ivan nodded. "Yes, I suppose I am. But if it's alright, I'll sit right here and _wait _for you two to be done, da? …Oh, look, doughnuts. May I eat a doughnut…? …_I'm going to eat a doughnut._"

He could be so incredibly scary without even trying.

Jesus.

Ivan kept smiling and chewed, but didn't stop staring those awful accusing knives at Toris, who was visibly nervous as hell. The Lithuanian swallowed in his dry throat, and tried to explain. "We just need to get Feliks a new shirt, that's all…his, ah, got melted on by the chocolate icing…"

"It was tragic to the max," the small Pole added gravely. "You have no idea."

"Is that so?" Russia nodded cheerfully, though his eyes remained fixed like a sniper.

_Because that's definitely not creepy at all. _"Yes. That—that's what happened." Smoothing away one stray brown hair, he stood and toddled away to fetch a suitable replacement shirt from his closet. "I'll be right back…" _Oh headache, go away please._

"Of course," Ivan's voice called after him, sticky-sweet like blood.

Toris returned quickly, unsure of how wise it was to leave Russia alone with vulnerable Feliks. Tossing another clean white shirt at him, Poland was soon on his way out. "Have fun with Ivan…?" He bid uncertainly, giving a little wave. "Or whatever it is you do?"

"Oh, you aren't taking your doughnuts with you?" The tall Russian lifted the box innocently, which was now missing three pastries. "They're quite delicious…"

"Um, you can like…just have them. They hate me."

"He's on a diet." Confirmed Toris tiredly, "See you later, Feliks."

"Bye bye." Poland flounced away; slightly oblivious to the high possibility he was going to be experiencing some unpleasant Russian revenge soon.

As Lithuania shut the door, Ivan lifted out a fourth doughnut. "Well. That was _interesting, _da? I can't say I was expecting to find _that _when I came in."

"Are you mad about that…?"

"Hm? No, I actually believe you. Or maybe it's just because these are so _relaxing…!_ Have you had one yet? You should have one. _Have one, _da?"

Caustiously, Toris sat next to him on the couch and let him feed him. Leaning his head againt the taller man's shoulder, Toris finally allowed himself to breathe again. Ivan smelled of sunflowers and the chocolate, not of the more common mix of tears, vodka, and blood.

It was nice when he was sober.

He almost seemed happy when he was sober.

"Oh, but my little Lithuania?"

"Hm?"

"Do tell Poland that I'm partitioning him. _Tomorrow._" He smiled contentedly as he announced this.

_…I knew it. Same old Ivan._

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